


Thanksgiving With the Boyf Riends

by wanderingbeauty



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 12:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12771531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingbeauty/pseuds/wanderingbeauty
Summary: Title is pretty self-explanatory. Enjoy.





	Thanksgiving With the Boyf Riends

I wake up with my mouth watering because the house smells amazing. There's also the low droning of the TV in the living room; I'd bet anything that the Macy's Parade is on. Dad's always so quick to call it gay and a waste of time, but he's the first one to turn it on on Thanksgiving -- even before Mom left. 

I always thought Thanksgiving was kind of hypocritical, given how we only celebrate it because we booted the Natives out. Then there's the whole "pretend to be thankful one day just so you can rip someone's hair out over a toaster oven twenty-four hours later" aspect of it, but I have to admit I'm excited; it's been three years since Mom left and Dad's finally stepping up to the challenge and cooking a full meal without resorting to frozen TV dinners. We were planning on joining the rest of my family at Aunt Tracy's in Santa Fe, but we didn't have the money for tickets for both of us. It's just as well -- I hate holiday parties. They're too claustrophobic for me. 

I hop out of bed, heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth before going downstairs.

I see Dad smile without looking at me as I wander into the kitchen for a glass of orange juice. "Happy Thanksgiving, champ."

"Jeez, Dad. Are we feeding an army or what?" There's an entire casserole dish of sweet potatoes, another one with rosemary lemon potatoes, a huge plate of green beans, two pies -- one pumpkin, one pecan -- and a platter of deviled eggs taking up all the counterspace. The smell of turkey wafts into my nostrils from the oven. "What time did you get up this morning?"

"Well, I figured your friends would be around the next few days. They always are. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Michael could put away an entire turkey by himself."

I feel my ears get hot and rub my neck. "You're probably right." I gulp down my orange juice -- no pulp -- and snag a few deviled eggs from the tray before darting from the room.

"Jeremy!" I hear Dad call, and imagine him angrily waving a spatula like a grandma, "Don't touch anything until it's time to eat!"

I plunk down on the couch and enjoy my stolen eggs as the giant Snoopy float soars into frame on my TV. "Don't you just love when big-name celebrities can make it out to the Parade on Thanksgiving?" one of the hosts asks. "Snoopy's been coming here since _I_ was a boy." The banter makes me cringe, but I don't have the heart to mute it.

It's in the middle of holiday commercials with screaming kids and teary-eyed relatives that I hear the front door open behind me. "Happy Thanksgiving, loser." I swivel around to see Michael grinning at me, taking his hat off and dusting the snow off of it. He hangs his coat on the rack and jumps over the back of the couch to sit beside me. 

I smile. "Hi." I give him a quick peck on the lips. "So you ready to do this?"

"Please; I was born ready."

I shoot him a look. "You're scared."

"Like hell."

I don't think Dad will have a problem with me and Michael dating -- for all his gay jokes and homophobic slurs, he's actually a pretty good guy who just happens to have an eye-rolling sense of humor -- but just in case, we both thought it would be cool to do it over the holidays. We reasoned that if he needed any persuading, he'd be surrounded by family and togetherness at every turn; kind of makes it hard to have hate in your heart. But with that being said, I still didn't sleep much last night.

"Jeremy," Dad saunters into the room and Michael moves away from me a little. "Did I hear someone at the door?"

Michael gives him a wave. "Hey, Mr. Heere."

Dad's brow furrows. "Shouldn't you be at your own house?"

He shrugs. "My cousins actually have to work. Some kind of pre-Black Friday madness, I guess. So my family isn't eating until later -- thought it would be cool if I hung out, maybe snagged a few pieces of pie."

"Well, you're in luck; I've been cooking all morning. Almost done."

"You look really cute, by the way," I whisper when Dad leaves the room. Michael is wearing a black button-down shirt with black dress pants and a mint green bowtie. His socks have foxes on them; I feel super underdressed in my Pokemon pajamas.

"Thanks. So do you." He runs a hand through my hair. "So... should we tell him now?"

"What? No! I wanna wait until he's full of food, man."

He's nodding now. "Good call. He'll be too content to care about anything else." He leans his head on my shoulder. "Hey, look! Pikachu!"

///

"Dad," I venture nervously. We've eaten more than our fair share -- the deviled eggs are gone, thanks to me; there's only a serving of green beans left; and Michael almost single-handedly demolished the sweet potatoes. Strangely enough, almost half of the turkey remains, and we've both had two pieces of pie each. 

"What's up, sport?"

"Ah," I scratch my head. "There's something Michael and I need to tell you."

He leans back in his chair, clasping his hands over his stomach. "I'm all ears."

"Well, ah..." A movement outside the window distracts me. "Joyce is here." _Joyce is here?_

Joyce is Dad's new girlfriend. They've only been seeing each other for about a month -- which, if you ask me, is _far_ too soon to be showing up to your significant other's house for the holidays! Uninvited!

Dad turns around and looks out the window as my hands start to sweat. "Huh. So she is." He gets up and walks to the kitchen. I hear the door open and they start talking.

"Hey," Michael gently elbows me. "You okay?"

"Abort mission." I manage to choke out. "I need air."

"You wanna walk me out?" His face is impassive. I nod once and we both push our chairs back.

"Hey, Jeremy!" Joyce smiles at me when we walk into the kitchen. "Hi, Michael! Happy Thanksgiving!" 

"Hey, Joyce." Michael smiles politely.

I hug her. "Um, Michael has to go now. So... I'm just... walking him out."

"Thanks for coming, Michael," Dad claps him on the back. "Drive safe."

"Thanks, Mr. Heere. Everything was delicious." He gives Joyce a nod. "Bye."

We make it outside before I start cursing under my breath. "I'm sorry, Michael."

"Hey, hey. No worries." We get to his beat up, piece of shit car and he turns to face me. "We'll just tell him another time."

"I didn't even know she was coming--" 

"It's fine." He ruffles my hair again. "Really. I'm just glad I got to spend time with you today."

I bite my lip, then decide, _fuck it,_ and kiss him. "Thanks for coming."

He climbs into his car. "Happy Thanksgiving, Miah."

Joyce has brought grits pie with her. I've never had gritz prepared traditionally, but if it's as good as what I'm tasting right now, then sign me the heck up. "Where did you learn to make this?" I asked her.

"My mom's from Georgia. She's one of the best cooks I've ever known." She kisses my dad, then tells him she has to use the little girl's room; it gives us a few minutes alone.

"Well," Dad says, "it was nice that Michael got to come over today."

"He never turns down free food. He's missing out on this pie, though!"

"Just one thing I'd advise, Jeremy -- if you're gonna kiss your boyfriend and you don't want your dad to see, maybe don't do it in front of the huge window in the kitchen."

I almost choke. "I--"

But I don't need to defend myself -- Dad's smiling. "I'm proud of you, son. And I'm happy you and Michael are together."

"Well, we wanted to tell you earlier..."

He shrugs. "I've always known you two would end up together sooner or later."

I feel blush crawling up my cheeks. "Thanks, Dad."


End file.
